An Early Morning Stroll

The cold wind whips across my face,
dreams rouse lazily in my eyes,
priming her meddling grip on my mind,
Readying me for yet another race.
I sigh, wondering how long I'll keep at her games
yet not sure I'd like to break free from her bind.

A man angrily blares his car horn
against a defiant bike hustling for his charge;
A street hawker beckons me to her wares
and I reward her with a casual wave;
The Mai-ruwa pushes life along
oblivious of what I see,
the bird on the fence strutting
around another that pays no attention.

Everybody is busy
barely noticing the mist
that clings stubbornly
like the guilt of last night sins,

I keep on walking